


just a little spark

by Val_Creative



Series: IT Movies Fic-Palooza 2019 [26]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Coming Out, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Humor, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Lace Panties, M/M, Married Life, Mutual Masturbation, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Romance, Seduction, Teasing, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 11:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20853032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Richie goes on live television, declaring his love for Eddie.





	just a little spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jesssan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesssan/gifts).

> Requested by Jesssan (AO3): "reddie fic set after the losers kill Pennywise where reddie are married and Richie is openly gay now and talks about Eddie in his shows or in late shows interviews." This spiraled out of my control and I love it. I hope you guys love it too. WE STILL LOVE REDDIE YALL. PLEASE ENJOY. Any thoughts/comments are ❤️❤️❤️!
> 
> ((Want a request for IT? I'm doing 100-1000 word fics of any friendship or romantic ship + any prompt until I feel like quitting. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a friendship or romantic ship + prompt. You need to specify if you want SFW or NSFW (for 18+ readers only). Please check [Full Rules](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478582). The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))

*

Lightning flashes over the tips of skyscrapers, blistering-hot and coruscate up high in the dry, New York City atmosphere.

Eddie mentally counts the rumbling in the distance, flipping through his mobile and browsing Richie's scheduled flight and the local weather. No corrections. Must not be a major storm on radar. "You sure you got everything?" Eddie mumbles, still gazing down on his mobile. Eddie's white cotton knee socks droops. He scratch-rubs the back of his ankle with his other foot.

"Yeah, _yeah_…" Richie says irritably. He fixes his glasses, examining himself in the mirror, wincing at the tenderness of Eddie's latest teeth-mark on his shoulder. Richie's fingers impulsively run through his mop of thinning, dark curls. "Keep your panties on, Eds…"

It's the thousandth time Eddie's asking, sure. But Eddie knows if he doesn't hear it that Richie will be in the middle of his trip and realize he left his smartphone's charger on their bed. _Their bed_—Eddie hasn't gotten used to that. A year dating off and on, between the separation with Myra, between individual therapy sessions, between Richie's new material and wave of success.

Coming to terms with his homosexuality and his longstanding attraction to Richie blossoming _alive_ all over again, as the old, old memories drift in like honeybees. Buzzing so softly, sweetly, pouring out _hot_, honeyed touches and kisses.

_ Wanna get hitched, Eddie? _

Richie proposed the idea, while unpacking Eddie's office supplies and half-dressed, beautifully young in the sunlight. His expression lighthearted. Like Richie already knew the answer before Eddie opens his mouth. And he did—god help them, Richie knew him _too well_. Eddie's thumb dragged a familiar, comforting pattern over Richie's shoulder-joint, grazing a mole. He took up a bright blue thumbtack, showing a bemused Richie, poking the sharp, silver end into the ball of his thumb.

_ Only if you swear you'll come back. _

Eddie vowed this, and his love, to Richie nearly a week ago, memorized by the thumbtack piercing into Richie's own skin. He grasps Richie's willing hand in his, removing the thumbtack's point from Richie's thumb. Their blood mingling, smearing together.

_ You'll always come back to me, Richie. _

"Rich," Eddie interrupts his own musing, glancing up.

"Now what?!"

"You're in your fucking underwear, dude."

He peers over skeptically at Richie's getup—black overcoat and V-neck, black slip ons and a pair of tighty whities. Richie's thick thighs and legs coarse with dark hairs exposed. "I was getting there! Jesus!" Richie protests, his face heating.

*

"Are you sure you want me to mention you?"

They're lingering in the corridor, with their apartment door swung in. Richie's baggage at their feet. "Yeah," Eddie replies, correcting Richie's belt twisted around in the loops. "Why wouldn't you? It's an interview about you and your life, Richie."

Richie's brows furrow. "Because they're gonna ask dumb, personal shit—that's what the interviews are for."

"I know." Eddie sighs. He knows what Richie's worried about. That it puts unnecessary attention on them, and forces Eddie to be outed to the world as well. "Richie, you're already out. Everyone we know knows I'm gay. It wasn't exactly rocket science."

"Just saying I could just say 'my husband' instead of your full na—"

"—me, _don't_ patronize me," Eddie snaps, talking loudly over him. Both of his hands cup to Richie's face, pulling him in. Their eyes meeting. 

"My full name is Edward Kaspbrak-Tozier. I'll be damned if I'm gonna be ashamed of that. Because I'm not." His frustration softens away when Richie offers a close-lipped, benevolent grin and pulls him in, arms hooking to Eddie's waist. "I'm not."

_ "I know." _

Richie's cologne smells heady, musky. Eddie feels his mouth on his, easing the pressure of the kiss Richie gives him. "You better go," Eddie insists, going near-breathless when Richie's tongue prods and sweeps over his lower lip. Fuck.

"Don't wanna," Richie murmurs.

They kiss again, deeper and more frantic, one of Eddie's hands clutching completely into Richie's hair. Their pelvises grinding. Eddie can feel his husband heaving for his next inhale, their noses touching. He groans out, half-startled, feeling Richie's wet lips trailing over his neck, sucking hard and open-mouthed to Eddie's pale skin.

"Richie, _hhn_—"

His teeth pinch down, silencing Eddie into another whining groan. Richie's left hand sneaks down, flattening to Eddie's cock, palming, working him to fullness. Oh, shitfuck. "I'll just get the next flight," Richie whispers, overjoyed by this like the devil he is.

"There's—_uuh_, fuck—there’s no next flight," Eddie says, panting, red-faced. His hips jerk into Richie's hand. "I checked—"

"Shit." Richie quits, letting go, knocking his head lightly against Eddie's temple. Part of him wants to kill Richie for stopping, and part of him wants to thrust Richie back against the apartment-wall and fuck him _right there._ Eddie concentrates on slowing his heart, shutting his eyes. Fucking erection. "I'll call you afterwards, Eds. Keep your laptop plugged in."

"I'll be watching the livestream, don't worry."

The door is open, and Richie's cell buzzes with an alert from his Lyft driver.

"Be back," Richie mumbles, pecking Eddie's lips.

"Swear?"

Eddie doesn't mean to sound so heavy-hearted, but it's worth seeing Richie's eyes glisten. "Swear," Richie agrees, clasping their hands, their healed thumbs bumping. He ducks his head, pecking Eddie's thumb lovingly.

*

It's a very popular late night television show.

Eddie notices at least 80K live views alongside him and increasing by the minute. They're all drawn to the wild, chaotic energy. Richie thrives in it, joking with the host and playing the brain-teaser games, dueling with ridiculous, colorful foam props.

About thirty minutes in, the host chortles and invites Richie onto a burnt-orange sofa, waving the audience.

"So… let's get down to business! You got married recently."

"I did," Richie admits, smiling professionally wide. "It only took twenty-seven years to realize I couldn't be without him."

_ Him. _

Eddie's pulse quickens. He's hunched over their mattress in front of his laptop, a quilt covering the top of Eddie's head."How does it feel to be one of the most outstanding comedic acts in LA? You're a household name!" the host proclaims. Richie lounges out, expressionless.  


"You mean a comedian who is openly gay, right?"  


The audience politely claps and cheers at Richie's bluntness, and some snicker.

"Yeah, it's been a challenge. For sure. On a gig, you get some less than savory hecklers. Some judgemental assholes running the industry." Richie tucks a leg over another, clasping his fingers over a knee. He looks very _good_ in the suit, Eddie thinks. It's the one with violet hues Eddie badgered Richie into purchasing in Hollywood Boulevard. "The acceptance is overwhelming though. I never expected that. I had spend most of my childhood being terrified by how I felt. It feels good to not be hiding."

"What about your husband? Any juicy details?"

Eddie cringes, wiping a hand nervously over his mouth. But, of course, Richie doesn't miss a beat.

"I met Eddie Kaspbrak in our hometown," he explains, smiling fondly. 

A few '_awws_!' blare out from Eddie's laptop speakers. 

"We grew up on the same street as kids and used to drive each other up the wall. And by association—our best friends. But, hell, I'm pretty sure I knew back then." Richie's features soften. "I knew I was gonna love him for the rest of my life."

A snorting noise. Eddie grins and shuts his eyes, a tear rolling down his face.

"What's he do?"

"Eddie works as a risk analyst." Richie cackles suddenly, beating on the sofa. "It was invented _waaaaaay_ before fun."

That gets a chorus of laughter from the audience and hooting cheers. Eddie laughs, and so does the host.

"Well, congratulations on tying the knot! Richie Tozier, everyone!"

*

Before two am, Eddie hears his laptop ringing. He puts away his e-reader, opening up his laptop and clicking to answer. Richie's own laptop has been propped up on a hotel-table somewhere, facing the main suite and a huge, satiny bed.

"How'd it go?"

"Felt like I was gonna shit myself during the actual interview," Richie says tonelessly, coming into view. He's left in a plain, tank-top undershirt and his suit-trousers, hurrying the expensive, wooden flooring in his socks. "Were you watching?"

Eddie smirks, getting up on his own feet. "Juicy details and all."

"I fucking _knew_ that was gonna happen."

Richie flops on the bed's edge, sullen and tired, rubbing his fingers over his eyelids. His wedding bang glinting gold.

"S'okay," Eddie tells him quietly, rucking off his tee in the darkness. "I mean… there's plenty to tell, huh…" The only source of light being the bluish glow of Eddie's laptop. He hops up on one foot, slipping down his wrinkled sweatpants.

"Not that it's any of his _busin…ess_…" Richie trails off, hesitating at the peek of delicate, maroon lace. _"Umm… Eds?"_

"Yeah?"

Stunned silence.

"Richie?" Eddie calls out, tauntingly low. "You were saying?"

"_Fuck_," Richie breathes. He gapes at the delicious, obscene sight of the lace stretching too-tight against Eddie's buttocks, when Eddie faces away to toss his sweats. "Fucking fuckshit—_fuck_, you should have flew out with me—"

"And miss all of this?"

Eddie's own wedding band reveals on-screen. His hand pumps himself through the maroon fabric. Oddly rough. How it catches on the tip of Eddie's dicks, giving him shivers and sensations he's rarely dreamed of. He's already drenched. Eddie's cock leaks with pre-cum and his balls grow heavier and noticeable, dangling free from the panty's lacy bridge.

_ "—I really need a fucking plane ticket home—" _

"How badly?"

Eddie laughs at Richie's needy moan.

"Badly enough where I'm gonna cum in my pants—man, stop being a fucking _cocktease_—"

"It's what you get for leaving me the boner earlier."

"I'm sorry," Richie babbles. His dark brown eyes widens, focusing between Eddie's gleeful smile and his dick straining bulbous through the lace. "I'm so, so sorry, baby. I'm an asshole. I'm the _worst_ person on the planet—_fuck_, Eds, you're _gorgeous_—"

He would be lying to himself if Eddie said he wasn't enjoying the attention. Eddie's other hand runs up his sternum, over the expensive of firm muscles and matting of dark chest-hair, dragging over a nipple. Eddie jerks himself off in longer, faster strokes, watching as Richie begins touching himself too. Thank god. He doesn't want to be the only one playing exhibitionist.

"Richie..."

"Cum on the screen for me, Eds. Pretend it's me—" That earns him a fainter, heartfelt laugh, Eddie's balls clenching. He's closer than he thought. Fuck. "I'm right here. I'm gonna fuck you so good until you need the inhaler again—_oh god_—"

Eddie loses of how soon, surrendering to his filthy-quick orgasm. Cum oozes plentiful onto Eddie's fingers.

"God, I fucking love you—"

"Swear?"

*


End file.
